


The Wisdom of Experience

by aegistheia



Series: Winged AU [2]
Category: Arashi (Band), Johnny's Entertainment
Genre: Allergies, Gen, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-28 01:47:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aegistheia/pseuds/aegistheia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aiba knows exactly what he’s talking about when it comes to allergies.  Jun should know better than to doubt him.</p><blockquote>
  <p>“I’m not allergic to your scales,” Aiba says, though it takes a moment for Jun to make out his words.</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	The Wisdom of Experience

**Author's Note:**

> For those with seasonal allergies.
> 
>  **Also Archived On:** [Livejournal](http://aegiscrypt.livejournal.com/5997.html); [Dreamwidth](http://aegiscrypt.dreamwidth.org/6043.html).

“I’m not allergic to your scales,” Aiba says, though it takes a moment for Jun to make out his words. Aiba’s biannual stuffed noses are legendary, but Jun can’t quite remember if it’s ever been this bad before. “Or your new brand of scale-spray. Like you’re not allergic to them.”

“That’s different,” Jun says patiently, “if I was allergic to my own wings’ discharge I’d have an autoimmune disorder. And it’s not unheard of for people to gradually develop allergies to moth-dust with constant exposure—”

“Jun-kun, I’m not allergic to you,” Aiba repeats. “Pollen season’s just arrived earlier this year, okay? Don’t worry.”

Jun frowns. “You can’t know that, Masaki. I have hay fever too.”

“You don’t have my hay fever,” Aiba points out. “You’ll feel it by tomorrow, Jun-chan. Promise.”

“Quit dancing around so obliquely with him,” Nino says idly, eyes fixed hard enough on the console screen to light it on fire, “and just tell him that you miss him.”

“Nino!”

“You’re expecting Jun-kun to understand what you’re saying with that stuffed nose of yours?”

“He’s got sharp ears, unlike yours—”

“Ah, sorry, say that again? I couldn’t hear you through your phlegm—”

“SNOT ATTACK,” Aiba says, bearing down on Nino like a— like a stuff-nosed gangly man with tentacles for limbs, really. Aiba’s not in the best shape today.

“No!” Nino screeches. “Sho-chan, save me from the slime monster!”

Sho pauses; he’d only just taken two steps into the room. He rummages his bag, probably for the controls to his music player. “I’m sure Aiba-chan has a very good reason for— reaching under your shirt? Ah, it is your shirt, for a moment I thought he was trying to undo your belt—”

“He has _absolutely no reason_ , why do you think I’m screaming about assault and battery—”

Sho unearths a pack of tissues and stuffs it down Nino’s shirt. “What are you talking about? He’s fishing that out.”

“You are _dead_ , Sakurai—”

“Tissues! I love you, Sparrow-chan!”

Ohno’s head emerges from around the door. He’s been airbrushed and hairsprayed to stage-ready perfection, if stage-ready perfection involves him looking like he’s about to fall asleep on his feet. “Makeup’s calling for Aiba-chan.” He bats cross-eyed at a piece of down when it lands on his nose.

Jun pelts Aiba in the chest with his puffer and a pack of Chinese medicine. “Take those quickly and go.”

Aiba makes a face at the medicine, but withdraws his hands from under Nino’s shirt, Sho’s tissue pack clutched tightly in his fist. “Does this one taste like the one you gave me last time? I swear, something in the ingredients—”

“It’s a different formula. For decongestion. Hurry up, they’re waiting.”

Nino heaves Aiba off of him, wings twisting in the air for momentum. Aiba goes down with a whirlwind of feathers and a howl. “If I’d broken anything it’s all your fault!” he whines, though he’s also conveniently landed next to the medication on the floor.

“If I’d lost my game it’s all your fault,” Nino retorts, peering around for his console. “And you’ll have to repeat yourself, I still don’t know what you’re saying—”

“Oh, Sho-kun. Good morning.” Ohno frowns into the air. “Was I dreaming, or is our new set going to be snowglobe-themed?”

“Good morning, Satoshi. And you’re not dreaming,” Sho says with infinite patience. “You heard the manager right this morning.”

“Oh.”

“But we’re not using Aiba’s moult as snowglobe snow.”

What Aiba says is drowned out by Jun’s sudden and desperate sneezes as his body does its level best to reject an unexpectedly wayward piece of Aiba’s shedding.

“Bless you,” Ohno says politely. “Oh, Jun-kun. Good morning.”

“Good morning, Leader. If we use his feathers as substitute snow, I might end up being allergic to Aiba-san’s moult instead,” Jun says grimly.

“Oh-chan, where’s my good morning?” Nino demands.

“I’m telling you, Jun-kun, it’s hay fever,” Aiba burbles from his cup.

“Just finish your medicine and go,” Jun says tiredly.

 

\-----

 

“See,” Aiba sniffles the next day, looking even more miserable than usual, but also strangely triumphant, “what did I tell you.”

“Shut up,” Jun sniffles back at him, eyes watering and nose itching unbearably, but curls up beside Aiba all the same.

 

 

 

_-fin-_


End file.
